Sticking Up For the Slytherin Prat
by VampLoverNight92
Summary: Vixen Cillurne, saves Draco from a mob of angry Ravenclaws, and makes a deal...to be his slave so she can get into Voldemort's circle of followers.
1. Chapter 1

_**VampLoverNight92**_

A/N: Hey, everyone. My first Harry Potter fanfiction. This story is mostly about Draco Malfoy though. 3 ferret. Hope you like. Review if you love me.

_**Chapter One:**_

Panting, I sprinted up the slate stone stairs that twisted upwards into one of the many Hogwarts hallways. When I reached topmost step, the dim, rosy light of the torches in their houses on the interior of a wide, dusty corridor welcomed me. I sighed tiredly. At least I was away from **him. **I shuffled quietly along the hall, seeking out an opening to the Room of Requirements at half past midnight on a school night. Just wait 'til the Dark Lord hears about this, I thought bitterly as a silver door appeared suddenly to my left. I opened the door, and immeadately thought, The Room of Requirements is at least improving. A large bed draped in green and silver bedding hung from chains on the ceiling, suspending the bed frame from the ground and swinging slightly. Flames tore at dry logs in the fireplace, and candles perched on its mantelpiece with antique armchairs nestled close to its warmth. I dropped my backpack with a thud next to the armchair I dropped into and gazed unseeingly into the fire's curdling blaze. With a look at my watch and the normal flames, I groaned. He was late. Its twelve thirty-five and no sign of Peter Pettigrew's disgusting face in the fireplace. Not that I don't like staying up all night to see that rodent's ugly head pop into the fire so I can report to the Dark Lord, but honestly! I don't have all night.

"Vix! Hello?" snapped me out of my thoughts. Peter leered at me out the grate of flames. I steeled myself to counter my first reaction to Peter—cringing in revulsion. His face seemed to have a shrunken quality, his nose looked snout-like, and his face was covered infrequently in stumble except for the top, balding spot above his head making him all the more similar to a rat.

"Pettigrew." I acknowledged. "It's Miss Cillurne to you."

"My apologizes, Miss, but I'm short on time—"

"Because someone was late—"I murmured loud enough for Peter to hear.

"Yes, yes." Peter agreed, cutting me off, and bowed his head. "Anything to report?"

"As a matter of face, yes. Pettigrew? You are aware of Mr. Malfoy?"

"Of course, Lucius is one of the Lord's most loyal servants—"

"No. The other Malfoy, the annoying one, Draco."

"Yes, I've seen him. He has great potential. He's already one of our Lord's devoted followers. Speaking of which, the Lord instructed me to tell you a message." Peter said, then went silent.

"Well?" I demanded after a moment's quiet while Peter turned his head side to side, checking my surroundings. He ignored me. "Peter! No one is here with me. You don't need to worry about eavesdropping."

"Oh, sorry—"

"Just tell me the message so I can get some sleep."

"He said that your initiation will begin in the winter, when you'll get your mark branded on your forearm. The Dark Lord demands that you seek out a mentor of sorts."

"Mentor? For what?"

"Miss, the Dark Lord expects no mistakes from his servants. He stresses that you find an older, experienced member to teach you."

"Like a babysitter?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"Take him seriously, Vixen, or he'll skip branding you with the Dark Mark—"

"Big deal—"

"And kill you." Peter finished. My eyes went considerably wider, and I stuttered out, "But, I'm one of our Lord's most—"

"But when the Dark Lord has servants such as Bellatrix and the Malfoys, he won't have a dire need to keep you alive. Especially if you didn't listen to his orders…"

"Ok, ok." I hissed, and snuffed out the fire on Pettigrew's continuing dramatic warnings. So, I mused, where can I find a practiced Deatheater? Well, if my parents were still alive, that wouldn't be a problem…

My parents were the Dark Lord's _**most**_faithful and subservient followers. True Deatheaters. Which is why I was taken in by the Lord's other followers, for my parent's infamous accomplishments in the name of the Dark Lord. They perished when I was two, which explains why I have very little memory of them. Other members remember them well, and in result, I end up hearing recollections of my parent's past. Mina Cillurne was my mother. I hear I look just like her. I have pasty pale skin, layered chin length black hair, and grey-blue eyes. Jackson Cillurne was my father, and they were a few of the first Deatheaters ever as well as the best since. Back then, the Deatheaters didn't hide behind masks, but paraded in public under Voldemort's claim over the magical side of the world. That was all before he fell, before Harry Potter. Now, I'm fifteen, in my fifth year at Hogwarts, and there are very few Deatheaters left. Plus, not many students aspire to join the Lord as before because of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. So, I'm just an orphan, supervised by Deatheaters until I can join them after be branded with the Dark Mark. I think it'll look rather nice on my left forearm, but I've heard it burns viciously.

With Peter's face snuffed out of the fireplace grate, I turned to the suspended bed for a good night's rest. I flopped down on it. I fell asleep in full school uniform: pleaded grey skirt lined in Slytherin's silver and green, white colored shirt under a vest matching my skirt. I even slept with my stockings and Mary Janes on my feet. My dreams didn't make an appearance, and for once, I slept restfully. Without my parents fading faces peering in at me while I said my first words or first step.

.&.

"Ahh." I moaned. I felt comfortable, and in no mood to attend breakfast or even classes for that matter. All I wanted was sleep.

"All…I wan…ez..sleep." I mumbled, still not fully awake.

"Nice to know. Now get up! Wake up!" Blaise Zabini shouted, right next to my ear. "Vixen! GET UP NOW!" With that, Blaise grasped my arm and pulled me right off the bed and dumped me heavily on the stone floor. My head flared in pain when my skull cracked on the hard floor before I glared at Blaise as he laughed at my sour expression.

"Sod off, Blaise." I yelled at him from the floor.

"Get up, you git." Called another voice, and dread filled me when I could see him come closer out of the corner of my eye. Eww. Draco Malfoy. The only teenager that outranks me in the Lord's eyes. Can you believe it? I'm second best to him?

"Get out! Both of you! Leave! I don't know how you got in here, but I'm sure you can find your way out—"

"Not that hard," commented Blaise, "All we had to do was think of finding you. Room of Requirements isn't going to hide you from us, Vixen."

"What's the rush?'" I whined as Blaise issued a light kick to my side.

"It's breakfast time." Grunted a thick voice, and Vincent Crabbe's portly build hobbled into the Room of Requirements entrance. Great, I thought, just great. When did I ask for a party?! I stumbled groggily to my feet, swaying a little upright.

"Get the bloody hell out." I slurred. "I got to change. Accio uniform." My fresh uniform flew right out of my schoolbag, instructed by the tip of my wand, and into my hand. I turned to the boys. "Go on. I'll catch up."

Appeased, Crabbe hustled Blaise and Draco from the room and to the exit.


	2. Chapter 2

_**VampLoverNight92**_

A/N: Hey, everyone. Hope you like. I was listening to a really interesting song called "Tom Felton is kinda hot" by a group called Draco and the Malfoys. Can you believe that actually exists? It's hilarious. Their "Potions Yesterday" song is soooo funny too.

_**Chapter Two:**_

After changing, brushing my teeth and hair, and gunning it down the corridors so I wasn't late for breakfast, I strode through the large double doors of the Great hall before making my way over to my house table. The Slytherin table was almost full, and I ended up sitting next to a horribly unpleasant pureblood girl named Millicent Bulstrode who practically squealed through the hour breakfast we had.

"Did you hear what Draco said to that dirty little git? You know, that grubby mudblood in our house?" Millicent heralded loudly, and I tried my best to zone her voice out especially if it had anything to do with Malfoy. Bulstrode rambled on and on, and her voice cut into my nerves after almost twenty-five minutes of endurance. Just as I gathered my book bag and started fleeing my god-awful seat, something stuck my studious inattention.

"Millicent? Where is Draco?" queried Pansy Parkinson with a dull sense of curiosity.

"Oh…I'm not sure. I thought I saw some Ravenclaws boys asking him to tag along with them. Shameful that Draco would associate himself with those know-it-alls. What would his father say?"

I cringed. That didn't sound good. Draco probably insulted the mudblood, beat him up badly, and the poor kid called on some friend's assistance. Sighing, I hurried over to the opposite side of the table, stooped down so Gregory Goyle could hear me clearly, and whispered, "Goyle, have you seen Draco at breakfast at all?"

Goyle continued chewing sloppily on pancakes smothered in syrup before he nodded.

"Some tall boys in Ravenclaw colors took him outside just as he came in."

"And you find nothing wrong with that?" I demanded, mildly in disbelief. "Aren't you his bodyguard?"

"Not during breakfast, I'm not." Goyle said, mauling on another piece of pancake with his mouth open. When I looked up pleadingly at Crabbe who sat in front of Goyle across the Slytherin table, he gave me a stunted grin filled with halfway eaten eggs.

"Vincent? Can't you go check—"

"Ima etin." Mumbled Crabbe through another spoonful of scrambled eggs. They both gave me a guiltless stare.

"I'm not searching for him, obviously." I denied, inferring that they'd passed on the duty to me by the looks they cast at me. They gave a noncommittal shrug, effectively dismissing me as they crammed more food into their mouths then guzzling two pints of milk.

"You two are disgusting." I announced to them. I cast a cursory glance at the Ravenclaw table, and it was almost deserted expect for the female students and some tubby looking first years. Storming out of the Great Hall, I still had a half an hour left. Whether I patrolled the castle for a sign of one of the most obnoxious people on earth was purely up to me. Soothing my doubts, I conned myself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, Malfoy **hadn't** gotten himself into a mess.

"Who am I kidding?" I moaned to myself. I'd have to look for him, or else it'd all get back to the Dark Lord. Eventually, everything does. So, now I'm stuck wandering down hallways at random, screaming at the top of my lungs.

"FERRET!" I called, then deciding against insulting someone I was searching for, called out again. "MALFOY! OI! DRACO!"

"Miss Cillurne, can you please enlighten me as to why you're **screaming** in my corridor?" stipulated Professor McGonagall, her lips drawn into a tight line as I turned on my heel to face her.

"Oh, Professor, it's nothing really—"

"Then, kindly, stop it before I give you detention."

"Yes, Professor." I accepted, then sped off at a full run into a different hallway with large, arched windows revealing a gorgeous, sunny day in the courtyard. The sun shone through the windows in bright, hazy yellow strips, lending Hogwarts of it's morning light. As I leaned on a window sill, momentarily distracted by the tittering of owls lounging on the branches on the trees scattered around the courtyard, I spotted a group of boys composing a large circle. Taking a few seconds to comprehend the scene, I jumped onto the sill and slid the glass window pane up so I could wriggle out.

I hit the ground with a thud, landing on my back, and picked myself up. Getting through the circle of crowded boys was hard, but seeing the outcome of the boy in the middle was worse. The pushing, shoving, jostling of the crowd, and bruises that would likely turn up later—I could deal with. Finding Draco wandless and surrounded by almost fifty boys, both younger and older than him, and him being unscathed was unbearable. Couldn't he have at least been roughed up a little? Is that a little to much to ask for? I mean, I intended to save him from a frenzy after searching for him, but couldn't he have, at bare minimum, learned a lesson in manners from it? An injury or two to keep him in line?

"**What are you doing here?**" spat Draco, recognizing me as I reached the inside of the ring. And, there was Draco, leaning against a tall, wide, leafy tree with a horde of enraged Ravenclaws containing him. Sneering at him, I scampered to his side. He looked at me oddly, seemingly trying to decide whether he was going to insult me or push me into the Ravenclaws.

"What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here? You weren't at breakfast." I said heatedly. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at me and smirked.

"Miss me, did you?" he teased.

"Oh, please." I scoffed.

"Then why did you find me?"

"I happened to be walking by—"I lied expertly.

"Was that before or after you fell out of the hallway window over there?" Draco drawled, clearly calling me out on my little white lie.

Coming up with no retort, I settled for, "Git. Why aren't you bruised?"

"Malfoy charisma, I suppose." he mused, and I snorted. "That and they're still compromising on who has first dibs."

"Oh, well, if that's it…" I said, and started walking back through the crowd in order to navigate my way to the Great Hall before a strong hand from the Ravenclaw horde pushed me back towards Draco. I hit the grassy dirt with a thump, and I could see Malfoy with crossed arms coupled with a cocky smirk directed at me. I lifted onto my elbows.

"You're in Slytherin too!" accused a tall, Ravenclaw with auburn hair and a lean frame. "You're a friend of his, aren't you—"

"OH, NO! I DON'T THINK SO!" I screamed as I climbed to my feet before stepping threateningly close to the offending Ravenclaw. "First of all," I hissed, stabbing the boy in the chest with my finger, "that git is NOT even CLOSE to RESEMBLING my friend. Got it? And if you EVER push me again, bloody Merlin won't be able to conjure up your corpse! Honestly, pushing a girl, what a—"

"OI! Are you going to at least try and teach me a lesson? Or can I leave?" Malfoy called out, obnoxiously, over my voice.

On cue, the mass of boys engulfed Draco, and yells filled the courtyard air. Out of the pushing, shoving, and pummeling, I sat back and watched. Understandably, I was rather looking forward to Draco's beating. I hate his guts, truthfully, but that isn't a useable excuse in the presence of the Dark Lord. If I didn't lift a finger to help a would-be Deatheater, I'd lose my chance to join them and probably insure myself some punishment.

However, I let the wrestling proceed for a few minutes longer before I trampled my way to Draco and pushed the overwhelming multitude away from him, one by one.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Draco screamed at me, hauling me away from an overweight Ravenclaw that was intent on trying to crush me. "Are you stupid?! You'll get your arse kicked!"

"Draco," I snapped. "You're the one getting beat. God, look are your face." He gave me a worried glance, concerned over his looks clearly. Malfoy vanity runs in the family, I'm afraid.

Five minutes later that Professor McGonagall came tearing out of Hogwarts' doors and into the fray.

"GENTLEMEN! GET TO YOUR FIRST CLASS NOW! IMMEADATELY BEFORE I ISSUE DETENTIONS! GO!" she screeched rashly. As the majority of Ravenclaws filed disappointedly into Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall supervised their retreat before departing back to her unattended Transfiguration classroom.

Now, only Malfoy and I were lingering in the courtyard, none to keen to start class. I glanced over at Malfoy. Satisfied with the amount of injuries he had sustained, and determining against adding anymore personally, I shuffled over to his hunched form. His silvery blonde hair was a mess and tangled, his robes in disarray, and his normal self-important posture was gone. His grey-blue eyes seemed stuck to gazing unseeingly at a clump of upturned glass in front of him. When I stooped down next to him, since he was sitting on the dirty ground, his eyes snapped to me. They were the same as always—cold, unexpressive, and piercing. I knew what he was thinking—because it was the same thought sprinting through my own: Why had I helped him? I mean, the Dark Lord would've been angry, but no life threatening punishments would have been implemented. It was almost like I cared. Yeah, get rid of that thought.

"Um..Draco. Where's your wand?" I asked gently, noting his two empty hands. He looked briefly down at his pale hands too, then hoisted himself up waveringly.

"It's in my pocket." He replied curtly. He began brushing off his robes, but I shooed his hands away, and said, "Here. Let me help you." I dusted off his robes lightly then summoned up the courage to look at his face again. I frowned as a trickle of blood escaped the side of his mouth. I tried to wipe the blood, but Draco turned his head to the side and spit out a glob of blood then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before facing me again. I took a hesitant step back.

"What would father say if he saw me like this?" wondered Draco, lightly. "What do you think, Vix?"

"Lucius would be…upset. It's understandable. You had it coming, though, Draco. Just leave the mudbloods alone, alright?"

"You don't understand, Vixen. I get my Dark Mark in a month. I need to prove I'm worthy. Father is already backing me, but I need more than that. When is your branding?"

"Winter sometime. Lucky you, you get your daddy to support you and wham, you're in the Lord's inner circle. I'm so proud of you." I snapped wryly.

"I take that as jealousy. Not a compliment, mind you. I might be willing to make a deal with you though." Draco said seriously.

"Deal?" I repeated, the word sparked my interest, and Draco took on a characteristic smirk. He nodded. "Like what?"

"I get you into my father's good graces, so you can get branded with the Mark." He said, grinning mischievously.

"And?" I asked suspiciously.

"And what?"

"The price." I retorted. "Don't play with me, Draco."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He drawled. "What would you do for that? What would you do for me to make my efforts worthwhile?"

"Anything." I breathed. "Get you father to mentor me under the Dark Lord, and I'll do anything."

"Anything?" he reiterated, making certain before he grew drew out his hand for me to shake. "Even be my slave?"

I bit my lip. That's a hard deliberation, but one I'd ultimately had to accept. There were no other options available for me.

"Only until my branding and we make it a deal." I concluded, and he nodded patiently before grabbing my hand and shaking it loosely.

"Alright, slave. Let's go." Draco commanded offhandedly. I yelped when his grip tightened on my mine, and he dragged me towards Hogwarts.

"Oww."

"Shut up." Draco instructed.

"But, Draco, you're crushing—"I whined, wincing.

"I said shut up, slave." he repeated firmly, giving me a challenging stare. I could tell he was enjoying his newfound power over me by the smug expression he wore.

"Where are we going?" I whispered once we were inside, since classes would've started by now.

"Common room." Draco replied. I traipsed along beside him unwillingly until we reached the Slytherin Common Room, the usual drapery in green and silver greeting us. Draco sat down gracefully in an armchair, and pulled me onto his lap where I made faces of disgust.

"Oh, stop that." he admonished, annoyed.

"Why are we here?"

"Because Snape is setting up a portkey for us." Replied Draco, still scowling at me for my obvious displeasure of his company.

"You know," I started conversationally, "I _still_ don't see that Malfoy charisma. Are you sure you're not adopted?"

"At least I'm not an orphan…" he retorted.

"Yeah, because then who'd stick up for you if daddy wasn't around?"

"Probably, you."

"I would not." I denied, crossing my arms moodily. "You're too much of a prat."

"Says you. I'm sure there are girls out there who'd do my bidding."

"Like minions? I think I like that idea." I said thoughtfully, imagining being pamper and having food brought to me on sliver trays while I lounged pool-side. The idea of having Pansy Parkinson as a slave lent a sly smile to my face. She deserved to be torture by manual labor. I'd have her clean my toilets.

"Do that again." Draco demanded suddenly, breaking off my imagination.

"Do what again?" I snapped, annoyed at him for ruining my thoughts with his loud voice.

"That evil face."

"I don't have an evil face!" I said defensively, starting to stand up before Draco wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me back onto his lap forcibly.

"That was the most charming thing you've ever done. That evil smirk." Draco laughed.

"And the most charming thing ever done is turn into a ferret." I said wryly. "Do want an instant replay of that?" I pulled out my wand from within my robes.

"Miss Cillurne, please refrain from using magic on Mr. Malfoy until _after_ you see the Dark Lord." Snape's dull voice rang out abruptly, and I saw his black cape and robe drop an empty potion bottle onto an end table engraved with Slytherin's snake before making a swift exit.

"Is that where we're going? Your manor?" I said curiously.

"Yes. Where did you think we're going? On a bloody vacation?" Draco replied flippantly.

"Well now, that would be fun. How about we visit Azkaban? I've always wanted to go there."

"Because you're insane."

"Is that why you're not taking me on vacation, or why I want to go there?"

"Both. Now hold on to the port key." Draco instructed, grabbing the empty potion bottle Snape had deposited on the end table. I touched it light, and cringed at the sensation as the Slytherin common room blurred out of view. Malfoy Manor's features came into view, leaving Draco and I swaying near the doorstep. Draco pocketed the bottle and lead me inside without hesitating to knock before thrusting open the grand front doors to reveal a darkly decorated parlor.

"Come on, slave." Draco commanded when I stopped in the doorway. This was my first time to Malfoy Manor, because I usually reported to the Dark Lord through Peter or Bellatrix, hardly ever in person.

"How long has the Dark Lord been staying here, Draco?"

"Address me as a Malfoy in the house please—no, actually, call me master." Draco announced, pleased with his title.

"I doubt _I'm_ the one whose supposed to be insane, because honestly _**master**_ you seem to have a bondage fixation."

"One that," he sneered, "you agreed to, might I add."

"Oh, shut it." I spat. Just then, Lucius Malfoy made an entrance from glided gold double doors with the Daily Prophet in hand. His wife, Narcissa, trotted along behind him meekly yet elegantly. Perched on her black heels, Narcissa was, at least, a full foot taller than me. So, when she glared disapprovingly at me, she seemed more intimidating than before.

"Good morning, Draco." Narcissa droned, turning her stare to her son. Lucius gave us a glance from his reading of the paper, and ignored us.

"'Morning…mother." Draco said grudgingly. "Father, may I have a word?" Lucius cocked an eyebrow, and motioned for his son to follow him into another part of the parlor. The den was sunken a foot or so from the parlor and detached from the front parlor by a sleek glass wall engraved with snakes, with a hulking dark wood desk surrounded by wall length bookshelves inside filled with frightening objects and illustrious dark arts books. Draco gave me a stern glare before sliding in the den with his father and slamming the glass door behind him.

"Hello, Miss Cillurne—" started Narcissa in a annoyed tone, before being cut off by a figure prancing into the parlor and darting over to the antique couch Narcissa had settled onto.

"Cissy, the Dark Lord requires a servant! Wouldn't it be such an honor if we served him?" Bellatrix squealed, then suddenly realizing my presence, cried, "Oh, Vixen, how pleasant to see you're still alive!" Bellatrix Lestrange stood up from the couch, and looked at me, before exiting quietly and beckoning me to follow her. I did. What? Was I supposed to endure Narcissa's unpleasant attitude this **whole** time? Pfft. No. I'm Draco's slave, not his mother's victim.

"I see you and Cissy are as friendly as ever." Remarked Bellatrix before giving off an insane laugh. I looked at her carefully as we stood in the narrow hallway off the parlor which was paneled in blackish-grey wood, clearly not the passage a special guest would enter as it gave off an old and unkempt mood. This must be a private passage that's been here originally, I thought. Malfoy Manor was full of sealed secret entrances and clandestine shortcuts. A good, secure location for the Dark Lord if anyone got wind of his return.

"You know, Trixy, it's nice to see you too." I said warmly, and she whirled around and held out her wand threateningly.

"I told you not to call me that, Vix." She breathed, almost panting in anger. I knew she loathed it when I called her 'Trixy' My mother used to be very close to Narcissa and Bellatrix before she died, and 'Trixy' was my mother's nickname for Bellatrix. Just as Narcissa calls her 'Bella.' Though, Narcissa hasn't imparted my mother's nickname for her to me. I doubt it was pleasant to begin with, if my mother knew the same Narcissa Malfoy as me. So, I leave it as Mrs. Malfoy since I rarely see her out of formal settings.

"I know, I know." I said dully, then smirked. "I see you're out of Azkaban. Your vacation ended short, did it?"

Bellatrix, seemingly enraged, changed expression almost instantly. She drew an amused smirk before sticking her wand into her layered black robes.

"Why are you here, Vixen? Surely you didn't come all the way here to taunt me?" Bellatrix said, feigning a pout. I grimaced, formulating an excuse as to why I had follow Malfoy around. Being his slave sounded too degrading.

"I…uh…um." I stuttered, as Bellatrix's grin grew, giving her an eccentric look.

"You came to see Draco, didn't you?" Bellatrix accused. "He's quite the young Deatheater now, Vixen. A lot like you."

"Now, Trixy," I reprimanded. "Why do you go and say things to insult me like that? 'A lot like you'? Do I look like a pampered prat?"

"Certainly." Bellatrix leered, seeing my offended expression, then continued. "It's been years since you've seen him, this year being your first at Hogwarts since Beauxtons chucked you out. I see you're both getting along fine. Neither one of you has died, so I suppose that's a good sign."

"Yet." I added tactfully.

"Hmm?"

"I said, Neither one of us has died _**yet**_."

"I assume your referring to your death, Vix." Called a voice as Draco rounded the corner suddenly, apparently catching our conversation. Bellatrix greeted Draco cordially, and stood between us.

"So, **Are** you here to see me?" Draco harassed, pretending to be ignorant even though he obviously wanted me to admit I was his slave, while giving me his characteristic smirk.

"Yes, actually," I said tightly, "I wanted to make sure you were alright after getting your arse kicked by Ravenclaws. But seeing as you're still a git, I can tell that you'll make it." I turned on my heels as I stomped towards the front door angrily, but satisfied to hear Bellatrix's deranged crackle at Malfoy's humiliation.

"My, Draco, were the little birds too much to handle? Those Ravenclaws out smart you?" Bellatrix taunted, on and on. Draco's face burned red in anger and embarrassment, and I should've known he'd exact some revenge. Also, I couldn't leave without him—he had the portkey.

"Vixen!" Draco called, his usual smirk and superior tone returning. I ignored him and continued to the door through the parlor where Narcissa still sat, and my hand was on the doorknob when he called, "Vixen! Get back here!"

"Goodbye—" I grounded out, before he cut me off.

"That was an order." He pointed out. "Come here, or the deal's off." I sighed, slapped my hand against the front harshly when I saw Narcissa's placating smirk, and walked slowly back to the hallway where Bellatrix stood next to Malfoy with an inquisitive yet relishing look. I gave her a pleading look before I stood in front Malfoy.

"Good slave." He praised, unexpectedly patting my head like a pet before I slapped his hands away. Bellatrix looked slightly awestruck before busted out in insane laughter and walking away.

"Vixen Cillurne! A slave!" Bellatrix's voice carried even as she disappeared down another hallway. I gave Draco an unappreciative look, but was interrupted when Lucius reappeared.

"Draco, the Dark Lord wishes to speak to you." Lucius announced before whisking away. Draco grabbed me by hand forcefully, and began down the same hallway Bellatrix fled to.

"Why am _**I**_going? He didn't call me." I argued as Malfoy pulled me hurriedly down the corridor.

"He won't mind if I bring a slave along."

"You're going to tell him?!" I screeched, abruptly struggling against his pull. "NO! YOU CAN'T!" We reached a door at the end, and the door pushed open by themselves before we entered. Draco gave me a thoughtful look as he dragged me into the room. It was dark, spookily so, with the only light from a fire in the fireplace's hearth, and I could barely see the Dark Lord's outline in this light. Nagini slithered around our feet in a friendly warning of her company. She lifted her head from the ground, gave me an intent look, and hissed softly at me which make me cling to Draco's hand even after he had let mine go. Draco looked down at my hand sharply, then gave my hand a tiny squeeze in reassurance.

"Draco…." Voldemort's voice rasped, "I ordered for you, not Vixen."

"But, my Lord, I don't feel safe leaving her out there with my mother. I apologize for the intrusion. She won't disturb you." My eyes widened. Did Draco just make an excuse for my presence? He didn't blurt out that I was his slave in his typical gloating manner?

"Ah, reasonable enough. I know of Narcissa's aversion to her, and it's wise to not make short work of future followers…."

"Is there something you wished to speak to me about?"

"Yes," Voldemort said impatiently, "You'll get your Dark Mark in a month, and your father reassures me that you're ready for the responsibilities. He says he taught you everything needed to avoid errors, and I'd like to warn you. If you mess up, there's no second chances. It's not just your head on the line either, but your whole family. Do you want to shame your family, Draco?"

"No, my Lord."

"Good. Now go." He dismissed. Draco left, pulling me with him into the hallway.

"Draco….?" I whispered, still shocked. "You didn't tell him about our deal…"

"Yes," Draco sighed, "You owe me."

"It's not enough that I helped save your arse from Ravenclaw thugs, is it?"

"No. The Lord would have worse consequences than any mob could manage. It's my life, and I think it's worth a little more than just playing hero on your part."

"Wonderful." I grumbled.


End file.
